Familiar Face I: Mosemotsane
by Ashni
Summary: When SD-6 discovers that another Rambaldi journal has been found, Sydney is sent to retrieve it. But K-Directorate is waiting...
1. Sydney's Capture

Title: Mosemotsane (it means "the second born of identical twins")  
  
Author: Ashni (nicole@lafetra.com)  
  
Rating: PG (it could probably be G, though)  
  
Summary: Sydney goes to Pennsylvania to retrieve a second piece of Rambaldi's journal. K-Directorate is waiting there, however, and they take her prisoner.  
  
This is my first fanfic ever, so be nice. :-) I wrote it all last night/this morning (New Year's and all), and all through today, but I'll just post the first few parts right now and do the rest later. Also, as with probably anyone reading this, I'm extremely ignorant of CIA protocol....anyway. Don't expect any realistic stuff here. ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any "Alias" characters, which, while it admittedly makes me sad, is probably a good thing because I don't want to screw it up. :-) So no lawsuits or anything. Hehehe!  
  
* * *  
  
Sydney woke up instantly, feeling her limbs scream in protest as she twisted her head to look at her surroundings. Stark white walls stood guard around her stiff bed, and when she tried to move, she discovered that she was chained securely in place.  
  
She moaned in pain and turned on her side as far as her chains would allow, trying to remember how she had gotten to this place. The single door stared at her menacingly, holding no answers. To her frustration, the last thing that she remembered was getting off the plane--  
  
The screech of the door gave her little warning before someone came into the room. "I see you are awake." Ana Espinosa stood before her, dangling a key from her fingertips. Sydney felt a raging urge to slap the smug look off her nemesis' face, and suddenly the memories all came flooding back. . .  
  
- Flashback -  
  
//New intel suggests that Rambaldi may not have hidden all of his journal on Mount Aconcagua. Some papers were hidden in Brazil; they are now in the possession of a man named Olim Idlabmar in Pennsylvania. I'm being sent to hopefully retrieve the journal and kill Idlabmar. Sloane doesn't want to risk him leaking information to K-Directorate. So, what's my counter-mission?//  
  
The phonecall for Joey's Pizza came a scant half-hour later. "We still have your photos from the original part of the journal," Vaughn told her, "So, here's what we'll do. Ask Marshall for a camera to take pictures of Idlabmar's part of the journal--tell him that even if Idlabmar backs out on his deal, you can bring back the pictures. Bring us the journal, give SD-6 a mixed collection of old and new pictures and concoct a story about why you couldn't get the journal. A CIA team will take care of Idlabmar later."  
  
Marshall had complied without question and Sydney boarded a plane bound for Pennsylvania soon after. When the plane landed, she had taken her single suitcase and gone immediately to the park where you would meet Idlabmar.  
  
A man was waiting on a bench when she arrived. Dark glasses and heavy facial hair effectively obscured his features. Sydney watched the trees out of the corner of her eye, on her guard for any suspicious activity.  
  
"Miss Bristow?" The man stood up and offered his hand. Sydney took it, her heart pounding nervously. "Mr. Idlabmar," she replied. She forced a smile on her face and tried to relax.  
  
A rustle from behind her warned her to drop into a fighting stance, but Idlabmar--or the man posing as Idlabmar--had her hand in a firm grip. She twisted around just as a blow to her head sent her reeling, stars covering her vision. Hands caught her as she fell. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the ( 0 ) tattooed on her attacker's hand.  
  
- End Flashback -  
  
Ana said something in Russian, but Sydney couldn't think past the memories that flooded her mind, much less translate a foreign language. "What?" she asked faintly, eyes locked on Ana's hand. Ana smirked.  
  
"I said, would you like me to unchain you?" Ana repeated in English. She held the key up tauntingly. "Or would you rather I come back another time?"  
  
Sydney glared at her. "Do I actually have a choice? I don't recall you asking if you could bash me over the head." She met Ana's gaze calmly and saw the other woman's face darken in response.  
  
"Why they keep you alive, I don't know," she growled. She gestured at the door and men with guns filed into the room as she roughly began to unlock Sydney's shackles. "But I suppose you'll fetch a price. Sold like a slave. Not usually done here in America, is it?" She smiled with false sweetness at Sydney, who kept her face carefully neutral. She would show nothing to Ana. In her heart, though, she clung to Ana's words: "here in America." She had more of a chance here than in Russia. She sighed inwardly. What fool was she, to trust Ana's chance words? But it was all she had to go on.  
  
One of the men must have noticed a trace of thoughtfulness in her manner, because he snapped something at Ana that Sydney didn't catch. Ana's face immediately turned stony and she abruptly stopped talking. She undid the last coil of chain with a rough snap and turned on her heel to leave the room. The other men prodded Sydney to follow her. Rubbing her wrists gingerly, Sydney obeyed.  
  
Despite her rising fear, she kept track of the corridors they took her through, building a map in her head. She had a sneaking suspicion that her guards were taking a much more convoluted route than was necessary, but if they were even letting her follow them without a blindfold, they likely weren't planning to keep her here for very long. *Or they're planning to kill me,* she thought.  
  
But that made no sense. If they wanted to kill her, they could've had a sniper pick her off in the park, or shot her when she was unconscious. That they had kept her alive thus far meant--what, exactly? Sydney didn't know.  
  
* * *  
  
Agent Weiss held out the paper to Vaughn, looking unhappier by the second. "It's a message from K-Directorate," he pressed, repeating what he had said a minute before. "Sent to SD-6. Mr. Bristow brought it to us." He waited, eyeing the paper askance. "Aren't you even going to look at it? She's *your* agent."  
  
Vaughn stared at his desk, twirling a pen with his fingers. "She's not *my* anything," he said softly. As Weiss' eyes widened, he looked up and took the message. He scanned it, but the words seemed to swim on the page. He could hardly think. K-Directorate had managed to get to Pennsylvania undetected, and now Sydney was in their hands. He struggled to keep from thinking about Ana, what Ana would do to her.  
  
Weiss swallowed heavily. "If they want to ransom her to SD-6, they are going to keep her alive," he said, in answer to Vaughn's unvoiced thought. He tried to smile reassuringly.  
  
Vaughn smiled back weakly, but his eyes remained clouded. "I know. Thank you for bringing this to me, Eric." He lay the paper on his desk and looked down at his hands. "If we act, we reveal her to SD-6." Weiss nodded slowly and Vaughn's brows knit.  
  
"Her life is more important than her status as a double agent at SD-6," Vaughn continued, still looking at his hands. Weiss stayed silent, wondering if Vaughn even remembered his presence. "But does Sydney think so?" 


	2. K-Directorate's Proposal

Sydney had lost track of where she was ten minutes ago. They could be circling back to her room and she'd never know. She didn't dare look around too much, either, with four gunmen at her back and four more in front of her. If she wanted to survive this place, she had to make herself valuable and avoid irritating her guards too much. She'd wait for her chance and then make a break for it, but right now she had to appear submissive.  
  
She kept her head down, darting glances through her peripheral vision. The walls were the same stark white that her room had been, while the floor seemed to be some sort of gray-brown tile. Metal pipes and canisters lined the corridors. Passages twisted off into darkness along every few feet of wall, with guards stationed at every corner. Sydney's heart sank. This would be nearly impossible to escape.  
  
"In here," one of the men up ahead of her said gruffly. He indicated a metal door to their right. Sydney opened it cautiously, aware of the man's piercing gaze on her. As soon as she moved into the room, two guards seized her arms. She yelped in outrage, stifling her instinctive violent reaction, but allowed them to drag her over to a wide desk in the middle of the room. As she seethed silently, the guards flung her into a hard wooden chair, where she pulled her arms out of their grasp and glared up at them furiously.  
  
Sydney looked around the room quickly, taking a mental inventory of everything in the room and if it could be used if it came down to a fight. She couldn't count on the desk to be light enough to topple over, but her chair could definitely be used as a shield or, if she smashed it, as a weapon. The file cabinet also looked too heavy to use. Four small pictures hanging on the wall could come in useful, however . . .  
  
She whirled around as the door opened to admit a white-haired man who looked to be in his fifties. He didn't have the cruel gleam to his eyes that her guards did; still, she watched him warily. Well did she know how deceiving looks could be.  
  
The guards to either side of her moved back deferentially, but Sydney didn't move. She kept her expression neutral and refused to acknowledge his entrance. She hoped she'd judged him correctly. If he took wild offense at her disrespect, she may not live more than a few minutes; if she was right, however, her spirit would only further any negotiations she could make. He appeared merely amused at her restrained defiance and she allowed herself to breathe easier. She hadn't misjudged this time.  
  
The man sat down on the opposite side of the desk from her and folded his hands placidly. "They tell me you work for SD-6," he said, his voice heavily accented. He waited with no trace of impatience for her reply.  
  
Sydney glanced sideways at the guards. "I've never denied it," she said stiffly. "I assume Ana's told you everything, so why am I here?" She managed to keep an edge from creeping into her voice.  
  
"Indeed she has. She wants you dead, as I'm sure you know. I had to pull rank on her to let you come here at all." His casual remark sent ice carving through Sydney's veins, but he appeared not to notice this effect. He cocked his head, again waiting for a reply.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said coolly, fighting to keep her face as calm as his was.  
  
"You are welcome. Now, I have a deal to make with you. We know you are here to meet with one Olim Idlabmar. From his name, I think I can safely assume that he holds another piece to the Rambaldi puzzle, no?" His teeth flashed white. "Would you care to tell us what exactly this piece is?" He watched her with such a steady gaze that she was sure nothing in her manner escaped him, so she spared no thought before she answered.  
  
"I don't know." When he continued to watch her, she went on hastily, "We deciphered codes with his name and location, but nothing more. And he would say nothing over the phone when we contacted him."  
  
He didn't respond immediately, and she began to worry that her lie was too obvious. Then he said lightly, "For someone loyal to SD-6, you talk very freely."  
  
Sydney did not have to feign the nervousness she displayed, or her bitter tone. "I'm not about to die to keep SD-6's secret," she said. "Especially not after they killed my fiancée. It's not worth it." She dropped her gaze to the titled floor. "I know you'll only keep me alive if I prove my worth." She watched his reaction through her long lashes.  
  
He leaned back, a smile playing around his lips. "Keeping information from us does not prove your worth." He fixed his bright black eyes on her. "Do you take my point?"  
  
Sydney gulped. "Yes, I take your point," she said hoarsely. She took a deep breath. "We believe he has some of Rambaldi's sketches. It's likely they will reveal another clue to the Rambaldi puzzle." She held her breath, waiting to see if he believed her. Sloane had told her that K-Directorate showed no signs of realizing that the Rambaldi journal they possessed was incomplete.  
  
She heard his fingers drum on the desk. "Very well." She still couldn't tell if he believed her or not, but it appeared that he would give her a chance either way. "Here's my proposal." 


	3. Olim Idlabmar

"Olim Idlabmar. It is good to finally meet you." Sydney forced a warm tone to her words as she held out her hand. The man facing her took it with a smile.  
  
"Miss Bristow." He inclined his head. "You are late."  
  
"I apologize. I was delayed by . . . business matters. Do you have what I came for?" Even as she bypassed the formal pleasantries, her heart raced. She didn't dare think of anything save what K-Directorate had told her and how she could thwart them.  
  
- Flashback -  
  
"You will meet with Idlabmar as planned," the man told her. "Give us the sketches and we'll ransom you back to SD-6. Double-cross us, and your life is worth less than nothing. Understood?"  
  
Sydney looked up at him, mind already chewing over his words. "Understood," she answered calmly. Her gaze did not falter as his eyes narrowed, deciding whether to trust her or not. She felt like an insect pinned to an index card for a high school lab experiment, under the scrutiny of a thousand faceless eyes. *But this bug will escape,* she vowed to herself. *And with the Rambaldi journal, no less.*  
  
"We have sent the message to SD-6, asking for the ransom money. Do you think they will pay it?" He maintained a pleasantly interested expression as he queried her. Privately, Sydney wondered why he didn't just dismiss her. Was he trying to glean more information from her, catch her unawares, or did he only make conversation with an apparently harmless prisoner? Whichever it was, she had nothing to lose by talking to him, provided she guarded her tongue-and her life to gain.  
  
"I think they will, but it depends on how much you're asking," she answered truthfully. "They may decide my failure to retrieve the Rambaldi-sketches-" she almost tripped over her previous lie, and could only hope that he hadn't noticed, "-renders me worthless. I can't say, really." She kept her tone light and conversational, but the truth of her words sent nervousness crawling up her spine. *If I get a plan in place to escape, I won't be here to witness SD-6's reply,* she tried to reassure herself. Even in her mind, the words sounded forced and unconvincing.  
  
The man cleared his throat and she snapped her eyes up to his face. "Ana will accompany you to Idlabmar's house," he said. "I will have a team surrounding the area, so I would not suggest trying to escape. At Idlabmar's, we'll designate a location for you to meet Ana once you have the sketches."  
  
"And then?"  
  
Another flash of white teeth, not so friendly as before. "And then we wait for your employer's reply."  
  
Sydney nodded, feeling sick. Vaughn had once told her that the only thing worse than letting SD-6 get a hold of information was if K-Directorate got that information first. Now, here she was, agreeing to bring the enemy the one part of Rambaldi's journal they did not have. She had no choice, she knew that-with or without her involvement, K-Directorate could likely get the journal. She just made it easier. Suddenly a thought struck her and her eyes narrowed.  
  
"Who did you send the ransom message to?" she asked, trying to mask the open interest on her face.  
  
"SD-6."  
  
"I mean, which contact there?"  
  
He smiled, as a teacher would when a struggling student finally responds with the correct answer, and steepled his fingers on the desk. "Jack Bristow. Your father, I believe?" Before Sydney could answer, he went on, "So, you see, I feel very confident that we will receive your ransom money. Your life rests entirely on what you do today."  
  
If K-Directorate had contacted her dad, word would eventually get to the CIA. Sydney couldn't believe that Vaughn would not act once he heard of her capture. But would he even have a choice? If the CIA decided it was too risky to send an extraction team, helping her to cost Vaughn his job. And she knew her dad's dislike of her handler. He would likely do everything in his power to undermine Vaughn's control over the situation.  
  
"You meet with Idlabmar in two hours. You may go." The man shifted his attention away from her and, after a moment, she stood. Escorted by the armed guards, she went back to her room. She had much to think on before her planned meeting with Idlabmar.  
  
- End Flashback - 


	4. Sydney Surrounded

Author's Note: Quick question. How obvious is it how I got Olim Idlabmar's name? And thanks to everyone reading, especially those who have left nice reviews. It's really encouraging and I appreciate it!   
  
Also, before this entry gets started, I've never been in a helicopter, I've never worked at the CIA, I've never touched a gun and I've never fought anyone. That said.... -Ashni  
  
* * *  
  
Olim Idlabmar nodded, eyes sparkling. "It is inside. Do you have the money?"  
  
Sydney laid a hand to her suitcase and Idlabmar turned with a gesture to follow him. "Good. Come, I will show you what you are here for."  
Before he could leave, Sydney cleared her throat. He turned back with a raised eyebrow. "My colleague is here as well," she said. Ana moved forward out of the shadows where she had concealed herself, and fixed Idlabmar with a challenging gaze. Idlabmar moved back a step, his smile weak.  
  
"Of course," he said, directing his words at Sydney. "She may wait here. She cannot come inside, though. Forgive me, but I do not trust SD-6 not to accost me in my own home."  
  
"I understand. Ana will remain here," Sydney replied. Idlabmar's face relaxed in relief and he went into the house with renewed vigor. She followed him quickly, but not before she saw Ana watching her. The K-Directorate agent gave her a slow wink and leaned against a tree to wait. Her folded arms warned Sydney not to try any tricks. Sydney's face turned grim and she closed the door firmly behind her.  
  
Inside the house, Idlabmar headed straight for a back room with a large safe along one wall. Sydney waited in the hall as he unlocked it, fiddling with her bracelet nervously. K-Directorate had returned all her jewelry and equipment for the meeting, apparently in order to not rouse suspicion, much to Sydney's relief. A charm on her bracelet twisted open to reveal a tiny CIA-issue transmitter. If a rescue team had been sent out after her, she could contact them from within a half-mile radius. At the same time, though, she would warn K-Directorate that she was communicating to another party, so she couldn't use it just yet. Also, it was only one-way. She could send out a dozen transmissions and never know if the CIA had heard her.  
  
She twisted a ring around her finger. That was new; another transmitter, but from K-Directorate. The earpiece to that was hidden in her hair by her right ear. Every so often, one of Ana's taunts drifted to her ear. She had to stifle her instinctive reaction to turn around.  
  
Idlabmar came out into the hall, holding a large silver key. "Now, we must go out to the woods behind my house. That is where I have hidden the journal."  
  
Sydney heard Ana's sharp intake of breath and covered it by demanding, "The forest? You told me it was here!" Inside, her heart soared. She had more of a chance to escape in the dense woods than in here, surrounded by K-Directorate forces.  
  
"It was necessary. I did not know if you would try to steal the Rambaldi journal without delivering the money." He looked at her apologetically. "I promise you, though, that it is out there."  
  
Sydney held up a hand and he fell silent. She spoke into the K-Directorate ring, "We are moving out to the forest." Idlabmar seemed to become nervous at this message, but Sydney pulled him outside. "The sooner we get there, the sooner I get the Rambaldi journal, the sooner you get your money, the sooner we go our separate ways." He could not argue with this and by the time they reached the forest, they were moving at a fast walk.  
  
The sky was already darkening to deep hues of royal blue and purple. Sydney pulled her jacket closer around her as she followed Idlabmar to the trees. She heard a faint whirring sound and looked up to see a helicopter on the horizon, no more than an oddly-shaped black splotch half-hidden by tree branches. She hoped it was the CIA, but she couldn't be sure. Her heart raced.  
  
She urged Idlabmar to move faster, and soon they stood at the base of a tree marked with a large "X." Idlabmar crouched down and began to clear away the leaves and twigs on a two-square-foot patch of ground. Sydney watched as he drew out a heavy metal box. He laid it before Sydney and held out the key. "If you would like to open the box-"  
  
A shot rang out and Idlabmar fell back against the tree, limp as a rag doll. Sydney cried out as something warm splattered her face and hands and she dove for the box, letting go of the suitcase she held. Even if K-Directorate found it, all they'd discover inside would be padding and fake money. Her scrabbling fingers encountered cold metal on the ground and she grabbed the key, taking off through the trees. She didn't even check Idlabmar. He hadn't made a sound as he collapsed, and she'd seen the expert work of K-Directorate snipers before. She couldn't waste time on the dead. Right now, she needed to concentrate on keeping the Rambaldi journal out of K-Directorate hands.  
  
Her fingers, clenched around the handle of the box, were beginning to cramp, sending lightning pain shooting up her arm. The box itself seemed to become heavier by the step. As bullets sent leaves billowing up around her, she raised her arms to cover her head and darted behind a tree. She worked frantically at the lock, trying to twist the key around the dirt encrusted there. It got stuck four times, and four times she strained silently in the dark, expecting a K-Directorate agent to come upon her at any moment and end it all . . . four times the key came free and she breathed a sigh of relief as she listened to the helicopter come closer.  
  
The box popped open with a snap. Sydney bolted to her feet and grabbed the papers inside, jamming them into her coat. The ends of her fingers were near numb with cold and pain, but she wouldn't let herself stop now. She took off again into the woods, picking at her bracelet. She tore the charm off in desperation and yelled into it, "This is Agent Bristow! I have the Rambaldi journal, I repeat, I have the Rambaldi journal! Now get me out of here!" She kept talking, hoping that the helicopter was, in fact, CIA, and hoping that they could track her signal. If not, she was as good as dead.  
  
As if in answer to her unvoiced prayers, the helicopter began to circle closer and closer. At the same time, though, the K-Directorate squad was slowly surrounding her. She ducked under a low branch and did a hairpin turn. A man tackled her from behind and she twisted out of his grip, catching him in the guy with a kick. As he stumbled back, she lunged at his face and drove him to the ground with a snap of her hand. She stooped to grab his gun and then the other men were on her.  
  
She saw one man fall to her gunshot and drove three others back with her vicious kicks. Adrenaline pumped through her and swept her up until all she knew was lunge, punch, defend, kick, stay alive. Suddenly she could not move fast enough to satisfy her fighting hunger. She became a whirlwind, a blur, a battle machine, incapable of feeling pain or fear.  
  
Despite this, Sydney was still hopelessly outnumbered, and gradually K-Directorate began to overwhelm her. Her fluid movements began to tire, and slowly her skin turned to a bleeding inferno of agony. She faltered, almost going down as a man tried to clout her over the head. Her attacks lost the deadly edge they had held and became the frenzied throes of a doomed animal. Hope had turned to bleak expectation of the blow that would bring her down. 


	5. And the Mystery Unfolds . . .

Vaughn watched the fight below in growing horror. Sydney had held her own for a remarkable period of time, but it was beginning to look like her luck had run out. His chest constricted as he saw a man club her from behind. The quarters were far too close for guns, but that worked against them as well as for. Neither he nor those with him in the helicopter could risk shooting at the K-Directorate men for fear of injuring Sydney. Davenport had picked men trained for aerial search-and-rescue, not hand-to-hand combat with K-Directorate forces. Nothing short of a miracle could save Sydney now, and oh, what agony that thought brought him . . .  
  
Agent Weiss came to sit beside him, watching out the open door of the helicopter. "K?Directorate may still be planning to ransom her to SD-6," he offered. His usual joking tone was gone.  
  
Vaughn didn't spare him a glance. "Shut up," he said, but there was no bite in the words. Only weariness. "They're aiming to kill her, not recapture her," he went on, sounding broken.  
  
Weiss couldn't reply to that. Then: "She's amazing, Vaughn," he said quietly. "I never blamed you for becoming to attached to her. I don't think anyone did." He bit his lip. "I-I wish I could do something . . ." He broke off as Vaughn looked at him. When the other man said nothing, Weiss took the hint and turned to go. Vaughn sighed and shifted his attention back to the ongoing fight below.  
  
"Eric!" Weiss turned around. Vaughn was gesturing fervently to the trees below, eyes wide, so he crouched down by the door obediently and watched. For a moment he could not make sense of what he was seeing.  
"What in hell is going on?" Vaughn echoed his thought, sounding bewildered and, despite his best efforts, hopeful.  
  
"They're splitting up," Weiss said in disbelief. "But why?"  
  
* * *  
  
Suddenly the commotion around her ceased and two-thirds of the K-Directorate men headed off into the forest, hot in pursuit of-what? Sydney didn't have much time to think about it, because those who were left were more than enough to finish her off if she wasn't careful. She saw an opening to her right and darted into the shadows, moving her wrist close to her mouth.  
  
"I'm heading into the forest. If it is you guys in the helicopter-" she took a deep breath, "-I'll circle back to the clearing right behind Idlabmar's house. Pick me up there. And I hope you have a medic or someone there waiting, because I don't feel too-" She stopped abruptly as she spotted someone else creeping through the brush. The other person noticed her at the same time and swung around, revealing a slender young woman about her age. Both their eyes went wide.  
  
Sydney stood up slowly, watching the other woman with a mixture of awe and fear. The faint sunlight filtering down through the trees was just enough to illuminate her features. Her own bronze eyes stared back at her, set above defined cheekbones and framed by light brown hair identical to her own. She could have been looking in a mirror. She reached up automatically to touch her own cheek, half-expecting the other woman to do the same.  
  
"You should take the chance to escape. They're coming nearer." Even her voice was a fair imitation of Sydney's. The double agent felt a trace of dizziness. Was she dreaming? She hardly knew where Sydney Bristow stopped and this other woman began. Maybe she wasn't even Sydney Bristow at all . . . Her mind, trained to focus through shocks just like this, screamed at her to run, and as fast as her identity was taken away from her, it was returned. She touched the other woman's hand gratefully.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered, as her doppelganger stiffened. The other woman stood up and Sydney could see that she held the steel box Sydney had discarded, which caused her brow to furrow in puzzlement. Then her companion took off through the trees, letting K-Directorate catch glimpses of her while skillfully dodging their efforts to catch her. Sydney herself spared no more thought to wonder and sprinted in the opposite direction, hoping the house was close by.  
  
When she burst into the clearing, the helicopter was waiting. She cried out in joy and relief and reached up for the rope ladder that Vaughn flung down. The wind from the propellers whirring overhead whipped her hair around her face and neck as she climbed, but she could still see Vaughn's concerned face above her.  
  
The helicopter began to move forward slowly and Sydney clung to the ladder, looking down at the trees. She grinned at the K-Directorate men who helplessly watched her escape, bewildered. Ana was only an outraged dot standing at the edge of the trees, but Sydney waved down at her triumphantly before quickly steadying herself on the ladder again. The trees dwindled to mere specks behind them. Sydney knew she had no hope of seeing her mirror image among the forest, but she stayed on the ladder a little longer anyway, watching.  
  
"You coming up, Sydney?" Vaughn's voice drifted down to her and she turned her face up to smile brilliantly at him.  
  
"Yeah. Give me a minute." As she prepared to continue her climb, she glanced back one more time at the forest, where she'd left a mystery behind. *I will see you again, and I will find out why you wear my face,* she vowed silently. Then she stepped into the helicopter. 


	6. Mysteria: Sneak Preview!

SNEAK PREVIEW from the sequel, "Mysteria":  
  
* * * *  
  
*There are things better left unknown.* Was Vaughn right? She hesitated, and it was in that hesitation that she heard it. A whisper of sound, easily dismissed if her nerves hadn't been so jumpy. But they were, and she froze, holding her breath.  
  
A slight change of shadow upon shadow told her that a figure crouched at the door. A faint footstep told her that he-or she-had entered the room. Sydney guessed that she hadn't been seen: she heard no cry of shock, no anxious retreat into the hallway. She set the folders down silently beside her. She turned, balancing on the balls of her feet, and peered around the edge of the desk.  
  
"You!" she gasped, then cursed herself for the outburst. The figure spun around to look at her. She found herself face-to-face with a gun, looking at her own face, her own eyes.  
  
Her doppelganger took a step back, letting her gun fall to her side. She snarled softly. "Sydney," she breathed. Suddenly her eyes took on a wild, raging glint. "You're working against him!" She raised the gun again.  
  
Sydney cried out and stumbled behind the desk as a shot rang out. The glass behind her shattered. A waterfall of shards cascaded down on her. She heard the guards shout out and they came running. Desperate, she grabbed the files and threw herself through the jagged opening in the glass, shielding her face with her arms. The hot sting of blood bit her cheek.  
  
When she finally staggered outside, the CIA team pulled her into the car. The tires screeched as they shot down the street. Sydney clutched the files to her chest. Her face was cut and bruised, and tears rose in her eyes that had nothing to do with the pain.  
  
* * * *  
  
Who is the mysterious woman who came to Sydney's rescue in Pennsylvania? Find out in "Mysteria," the second story of this trilogy! (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=531726) -Ashni 


End file.
